JК
Danse Macabre :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 422 из 427«Anita,Anita, can you hear me?»
I meant to say yes, but the world went black, and I was floating, and I couldn't say anything to anyone.
55
I WOKE UP in the hospital. Not the human hospital, but the lycanthrope hospital. The building that the local shapeshifters keep for just such emergencies. If they'd taken me to the humans, then Asher might have ended up with an order of execution against him. The downside to going to the furry hospital was that the blood they used for transfusing wasn't human blood. If you get the right blood type, humans can take in lycanthrope blood, and lycanthropes can take in human blood, but lycanthropes have trouble taking in blood that isn't their strain of lycanthropy. Since I carry three, I was something of a problem. But since I was also O-negative, there wasn't a lot of choice. It's not the most common blood type around, especially in a small hospital like this one.
Doc Lillian won't actually tell me what strain of lycanthropy she decided to add to my mix, or if she chose one that I already had. She thinks that if I know what it is, it could influence which beast wins. Since my mental process shouldn't have anything to do with it, I have no idea what she's babbling about, but she won't give in, so come next full moon we'll see if my mixed bag of furry picks a winner.
I slept off and on, and when I woke up again, Asher was sitting by my bed. I startled when I saw him, made a little gasp.
He looked away from me, letting all that long hair fall forward to hide his face completely. He wasn't flirting, showing that perfect profile. He was just hiding. «You are afraid of me now.» His voice held regret like a light, persistent rain, one you know will go on all day.
I started to deny it, then stopped myself. Was I afraid of him? Yes. Yes, I was. But not for the reason he thought. I touched the bandage at my neck, and from the feel of it alone, I knew the bite wouldn't be some polite pricking. He'd gotten carried away at my neck, as he had elsewhere. It wasn't like collarbone-scar bad, or even the bend of my arm bad, but it wasn't what the old vamps usually did. It felt like a rookie mistake under the bandages.
That made him sit up a little straighter, his arrogance kicking in. «I am sorry that my manner displeases you so.» He sounded a little angry; good. It was better than despair.
«You're right, I should be furious with you. And you're right that I've kicked men out of my life for a hell of a lot less than this.»
The anger leaked away, and that numbing depression rolled over him again.
I meant to say yes, but the world went black, and I was floating, and I couldn't say anything to anyone.
55
I WOKE UP in the hospital. Not the human hospital, but the lycanthrope hospital. The building that the local shapeshifters keep for just such emergencies. If they'd taken me to the humans, then Asher might have ended up with an order of execution against him. The downside to going to the furry hospital was that the blood they used for transfusing wasn't human blood. If you get the right blood type, humans can take in lycanthrope blood, and lycanthropes can take in human blood, but lycanthropes have trouble taking in blood that isn't their strain of lycanthropy. Since I carry three, I was something of a problem. But since I was also O-negative, there wasn't a lot of choice. It's not the most common blood type around, especially in a small hospital like this one.
Doc Lillian won't actually tell me what strain of lycanthropy she decided to add to my mix, or if she chose one that I already had. She thinks that if I know what it is, it could influence which beast wins. Since my mental process shouldn't have anything to do with it, I have no idea what she's babbling about, but she won't give in, so come next full moon we'll see if my mixed bag of furry picks a winner.
I slept off and on, and when I woke up again, Asher was sitting by my bed. I startled when I saw him, made a little gasp.
He looked away from me, letting all that long hair fall forward to hide his face completely. He wasn't flirting, showing that perfect profile. He was just hiding. «You are afraid of me now.» His voice held regret like a light, persistent rain, one you know will go on all day.
I started to deny it, then stopped myself. Was I afraid of him? Yes. Yes, I was. But not for the reason he thought. I touched the bandage at my neck, and from the feel of it alone, I knew the bite wouldn't be some polite pricking. He'd gotten carried away at my neck, as he had elsewhere. It wasn't like collarbone-scar bad, or even the bend of my arm bad, but it wasn't what the old vamps usually did. It felt like a rookie mistake under the bandages.
That made him sit up a little straighter, his arrogance kicking in. «I am sorry that my manner displeases you so.» He sounded a little angry; good. It was better than despair.
«You're right, I should be furious with you. And you're right that I've kicked men out of my life for a hell of a lot less than this.»
The anger leaked away, and that numbing depression rolled over him again.